


Curdled Milk

by flowersoffleshandblood



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Child Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pedophilia, also pedophilia warning, but if you can relate thats chill, but yeah, child pornography, diary entry from my own journal i keep in my mattress, e d g e l o r d, holy shit, oh that sounds fucked, this is fuckin edgy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-01-09 00:50:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12265536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersoffleshandblood/pseuds/flowersoffleshandblood
Summary: if you can relate i give you my best wishes





	1. The Liver and Lungs

**Author's Note:**

> pedophilia warning

He’s got a cold bomber jacket around his shoulders while he walks around my room and pushes his hair out of his face as sits on my bed. It’s calm as he reaches over to me and pulls me on his chest. He has two things close to him. Me and his gun. And sometimes i think he loves her more than he loves me. He’s gotten into more trouble than i can count, spending most of his nights passed out and covered in bruises on my bed while i stroke his hair and cry over his chest. He’ll tell me not to cry and not to worry. But i know that he’s lying to me and from the way he starts shaking and rubs my back to calm himself down.

If there’s one thing he loves more than hunting outside, its making love to me. He says it’s so pretty how i lay and take it from him, calling out his name like a mantra before he carries me to bed and wraps his naked body around me and drifts off to sleep. He likes to say that i’m the only one he’d ever do it to. But he’s fucked so many girls and broke so many of them, i’m scared i’ll be thrown away one day. He’ll tell me how he’s fucked them raw til they saw stars and moaned like the whores he said they were. But i think i’m the only one who’s ever said ‘i love you’ to him. I think i’m the only one who wanted to please him. He broke my hymen and apologized for it, saying how sorry he was. And i told him he could hit me, but he only cried and told he’d never do it. But one day he will.

These are the days i ponder about the most. The age difference between us. How my friends think he’s hitting and beating me from the bruises i have. How he will not let me talk to anyone but him. How he tells me i'm his and no one else’s. How he’ll yell at me after i done something wrong. I love it all. And i make sure to tell him when he’s scared that he didn’t go to far and never will. How he had held his mother at gunpoint and threatened to shoot an officer with 44. Magnum after his father passed. I’d still love him even if he had shot her.

And his ex had called him a pedophile for dating someone that much younger than him. But he told me that i had looked so pretty that he had to have me. Even when i had looked so ugly that day. I asked him how i looked pretty. He had replied with “I just found you so interesting my dear.”. Then he had kissed me and shoved his fingers down my throat. That’s when i had let him choke me with his love that spilled out of him and take me whole being into him. And when he lied back in his hair and set my hands on his stubbled cheeks, i rocked back and forth and told him how much i loved him and what he did to me.

His best friend loved me first but i didn’t know it. He had told me how glad he was that i didn’t go with the boy. But sometimes i would have wondered what would have happened if i went to the shooting range and saw him there, his hair tied back into a ponytail, a 47. In his arms, and about six things wrong in his head. But the stable one would have lead me away from the not so stable one and give me his gun so i could shoot the black targets meters away from me. But i didn’t go, i had met him another way. And he had flirted with me in his own way. Even going as far to warning me before i signed the contract and not even letting me get the chance to read the fine print that was embedded in red on his wrists. He’s went to therapy, contemplating on swerving off the road every time he’s driven. He doesn’t like the things that come from his own head and tells himself he likes alive things but that’s a lie. I know it is. 

He’ll even go as far as telling himself that he’s a kind person. But i know that’s not true. I’ll have to sneak out and meet him at his house and in that, he looks like he’s been doing something behind my back. He’s not a kind person. But he is to me. He’ll kiss and hold me when i cry because of the child pornography they took of me. He’ll put his hand on my belly when i told him how hard they thrusted into me, letting me bleed on the mattress in front of the camcorder. I told him to erase it from my womb and he did. But one day he will lose it and it’ll all be for me.


	2. Of Flesh and Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where i remember most of it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit my man

If i were to breathe fire rather than the semen that falls out my mouth, from then i’m forced to swallow up again. I’d use it to burn off my nose into the man that’s hiding between my walls while i’m changing into my clothes. 

I was borne of mud and tar, used to wipe off the cum that sits over my stomach. My father and his friends keep me at bay while i thrash into my cuffed wrists and ankles, screaming out for my god to take me away already. 

I had only learned how to spell the word ‘animal’ when i was told to get on the mattress and spread my legs for them. They used a polaroid camera to take their pictures and a nail gun to keep me in place. The mazzer to cut open my stomach to little slits they could use to thrust into and burn my insides. The blood and vomit that fell over my shirt and the yellowed mattress was all i needed to cry and plead them to stop. Grown ups are grown ups and they do what they want. They do not take orders from children. Cause that's just ridiculous. But they were able to have me screaming days afterwards and have me tossing and turning in my bed looking for an answer to the pain i was put through.

Then it happened a second time. And it hurt far much more worse when they realized i still trusted them to treat me gently. And that they did not. I was paralysed for a week in the basement, pale and shivering into the dirty sheets from the day before. I was told to find no love in flesh but only in the things that i were to grow greedy of. If i were to love someone or something, it would be taken away from me and put into boxes left to collect dust in the attic.

And i did at one point fall in love with my father. I had no one else so i took the only role model i had and that was my father. He had never known, this being when i had grown a year older from the last session. He made me sit on his lap and he kissed my neck as i writhed in his arms. He stuck his tongue down my throat and let his saliva drip down my chin while i let my shorts be tugged off. 

Do i regret it? No. No i do not. It was by then the most gentle he had treated me since the cameras had shut off. I remember him holding my waist while i making breakfast and when he had muttered very faint words into my ears, did i know that was not right. That this was a crime against what billions had believed. A man 30 years older than a 9 year old was something that did not show the right light. So i pushed him off of me and locked myself in my room. He followed after me pounding on the door. 

My room was only 2 stories up so i figured i could jump it, be okay and run far far away. When i had opened the window my father had already broken in so i jumped out and i could still hear him yelling after me as i hit the ground, my leg breaking at impact. I didn’t scream, for i didn’t feel it yet but as i crawled to get away, i felt all of it. All my nerves, muscles, veins, arteries, and skin explode within my leg. It hurt like a motherfucker so i screamed, gaining the attention of my neighbors and the mother walking with her daughter on my street. I remember the woman running over to me and trying to see what had happened and how she could possibly help me. Her daughter stood in place, staring at me and my leg and she had burst out in tears.

When she dialed the police, my father had ran out and he pushed the woman over so her phone fell out of her hands and went up to me and yelled. He asked me why i had done that and what i had just done. And how everyone had saw. But i was too busy gasping for air and trying not to look at my bloodied legs, in fear of seeing my bone pop out of my leg.

And now the ambulance had arrived, the woman in white and red looked at me seemingly to not even notice the obvious fractures in my legs. This was old news to her. And i was to me too. If only she had knew. If only any of them knew. And at that time i assumed they did and that this was normal. And the only reason they were here was because i was in trouble. So i cried on the way to hospital saying i was sorry and a nice man told me it wasn’t my fault and that it was a mistake. I believed him for a split second and then i remembered that i was the one who pushed my father and jumped out the window. 

But that was one of the things i remember really well.


	3. Don't be scared of your insides love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had spilled all out on his boots

My baby had finally saw it. All of it. All of the imperfections that had came with me. All the gross and disgusting things that seeped from my ripped seams. While i thrashed in his bed he tried to scoop up all the blood and tar that fled from my stomach.

I felt all of it. My nails scraping against his back, hard enough to draw blood. My eyes rolling to the back of my skull. The fever sprouting out of my neck. The blood i drew from my stomach when i tried to claw the men out of my womb. The piss that dribbled between my legs. How he tried to pin my hands above my head so i couldn’t claw at myself anymore. When his whisper got gradually louder until he was screaming and crying for me to wake up.

But i could still feel it. I could still feel the glare of the sony camcorder on me, all the incipient eyes that bled into my brain. I could feel them pound into me, hearing myself rip between my legs and my hymen being stretched and broken to the likes of my father and his friends. I could feel the sting of the pizza cutter on my belly, that cut horizontally below my navel and to my hips. The force of calloused fingers prying my mouth open so i could fit him inside. And i screamed for release. I asked the man behind the camera why he wouldn’t help me. I begged him to help me. I cried for his help but his attention was on the little digital box in front of him. So i asked the man who stood behind my father. I asked him to save me. But he only avoided my gaze and unzipped his pants. 

And my love was forced to watch me humiliate myself. He had watched me writhe on his sheets ultimately soaking them with urine. He had watched me call out for my father to stop. He watched me try to rip open myself so that i could pull them out. He had seen me twitch and cry against my will. But he had cried for me to wake up while he took my hands and put them on his cheeks letting me feel the stubble and soft skin that was his. He had put his forehead on mine while i whimpered feeling my father pull out of me. He had ran his fingers through my short hair, telling me that it was okay and that no one could hurt me. He had taken the my face into his palms and let his tears fall into my nose and drip down to my chapped my lips. The salt had tasted so good in that moment and i was left to cling onto him and let myself whimper into his shoulder. And he didn’t even seem to care about the piss or the blood that sat on me. 

He let me sleep in the mess i had made only carrying me to the shower when i had woken up stripping me like a toddler and heating up the water so that it was perfect for my frail body. He had then taken off his clothes and guided me into the shower with him. And i saw the swollen claw marks on his back and i kissed them each with the all the confidence i didn’t have. He had turned around and i saw his long brown hair cling to his head and shoulders. His eyes were softer now. A soft doe brown, unlike my green and yellow eyes that pierced right into him. He didn’t mind so i let my forehead rest on his chest while he washed my hair and rinsed the suds out. 

And when he was done, he turned the water off and dried my hair with a clean towel then led me to the futon downstairs and we watched cartoon re runs the rest of the night. He muttered sweet things into my hair about how much he loved me and that he was so sorry for making me tell him what had happened. He told me that he had no idea and that he would stay with me until i didn’t want him anymore. He would love me and that he would make for damn sure i would never see my father. 

Then he told me not to be afraid of my insides and that they love me just as much as he does. He says i shouldn’t be afraid anymore as long and i'm besides him. He said that he vowed to drown my father in his own cum and blood until he screamed for forgiveness that would never be brought to him. He told me that he loved me so so much that he’d have to be killed before he’d let anyone touch me.

So we fell asleep to lazy recordings of Ben 10 and Spiderman and i couldn't have been anymore content.


	4. Womb and Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He made me grieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HoooooooooooOOOooo well i found out

My baby was working the late shift that night. Five thirty to two in the morning. Of course he had gotten held up to clean up with the rookie who he had been training. So that meant he had gotten home an hour later.

But i had made his favorite dish that night. Pasta with icelandic styled stew. He had told me how much he loved it and how i should make another batch for him, he had eaten the whole bowl in a minute being the pig that he was. So i made another and he kissed me afterwards, standing behind me and rocking my hips side to side while we listened to Tropic Of Cancer that was playing on the retro radio on the floor. He kissed my head not missing a beat when i put the spoon up to wrap his lips around it. He hummed into it and kissed me once more, sighing praises on how amazing my cooking was. And when i was done i set the bowl on the small wooden table in front of him and he motioned for me to sit on his lap. He let me feed him, sometimes faking him out and putting the stew in my mouth instead of his. He’d pout but i’d kiss his lips letting him get a little taste. He didn’t complain about it though.

When he was done putting the dishes in the sink, he grabbed my hand and led up to the bedroom taking off his clothes and motioning for me to do the same. So i shrugged off my pants and the shirt he had let me wear earlier. We threw the clothes on the left side of the bed and he pulled me so that i was laying right on top of him. He played with my hair, lulling me to sleep.

But he was later that night, putting the food on the counter, letting my forehead rest on the table top. He usually came home later than usual to help out with closing but that left me to do a little more laundry before he called me and told me he was on his way home. From then on i’d put the food back on the stove and let it boil a little while more so that when he came home he could relax and eat while i made some tea. 

So when he came home that night he hung up his jacket and walked over to kiss me on the forehead and ask me how my day went. I told him it was the same as it usually did then i would tell him that food was ready on the table for him. He’d kiss me again and walk over to the table waiting for me to join him. 

When we’d finished our food, he put our plates in the sink and carried me up the stairs, where i had then seen his infidelity.


	5. Cremated hands and feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, i fucked up.

I had not known that i had pushed him to his limit. I had only known that he was severely mismatched inside his head and i should have known better than to mess with him when he had a loaded gun under his bed. He’s troubled all the time. From when he wakes up, til he falls asleep in my arms. Even when he’s out late at night fucking his ex against her mattress and cumming inside of her. Even when he knows i’m waiting there for him at home, he'd rather be with her. It’s been like this for months and i cry every night waiting for him to come home when his friends tell me he’s a girl on the side. 

I had gotten upset. Not mad, not outraged, not even to the point where i wanted to yell at him. I just sat there on the bed in my white panties and bralette, waiting for him to pounce on me like he had with his other baby just moments before. He had looked at me, my pale skin and the short brown hair that tickled my neck, my bruised legs and my cut up knees. I look nothing like her. I am the opposite.

And before i knew it, he was on top of me, pounding into me and when i told him i loved him while he fucked me, he hesitated but remembered he had to say it back. So i let my fingers run through his long hair and push it out of his face so he could see me, and i saw her staring back at me. So i cried. And cried.

The next day i was staying at a friends house and he was so distant i didn’t go back there that day and just did stupid stuff with them. I smoked my lungs out and i could almost feel the tar leak out of my nostrils, burning with ever so much delight. I’m young, yet i decide to kill myself with the chemicals that i breathe in. It feels so nice, killing myself. So i sat there in the rain and pulled out another pack.

I left the house to walk in the rain and my eyes were stinging rather painfully. I had trusted this boy with everything i had. Though he wasn’t a boy he was an adult who decided i wasn’t enough for him to have. I couldn’t light the cigarettes anymore and i was soaking wet. Though he texted me and yelled at me. I didn’t know why. So he called me and when i told him i knew, he had stopped and let my cry. 

So i sat there in the park, 2 miles away from the house and i was near freezing in the 50 degree weather with a sweater on. I had asked him what i did wrong. He never answered. So i pleaded and told him i would be better, i wouldn’t smoke, i wouldn’t drink, i would be more like the girl he loved so much more than me. 

Then he snapped and told me i was wrong and that i was perfect the way i was. He told me it wasn’t my fault and that it was his. He said he was sorry and that he couldn’t forgive himself. But he’s lying. He said it was because i gave him everything. How i let him take advantage of me and how i tried to be good for him. He said it made him guilty. He said that it was his fault and that he was sorry. But i wasn’t.

I cried and i froze there for a while until he said he was going to do something stupid. He had found out where i was at and stole his brother's car. He told me to wait there and try to stay on with him.

He drove up in the grass, ran out of the car and found me. He put his jacket over my shoulders and carried me to the street where i could calm down and breathe. I could hear steps of his work boots against the wet grass and his heavy breathing against the rain to get me to car so that i was warm and out of the humid rain and cold temperature. I didn’t dare look at him, for i knew that if i did she and him would both be looking at through his eyes with pity and disappointment. I had only wished for someone other than my father to love me like i loved him. He was too good for me, even through all the fog. But he wouldn’t say it to my face.

The car felt warm and stiff, the hot air colliding with the cold droplets, frizzing up my hair. I could feel him looking at me. I could feel his sigh and the shake of his head. He asked me where i was supposed to be that night. I didn’t answer cause i would’ve sobbed and ugly story in his car. He seemed to know so he drove me up the long road up to a friend of mine’s house.

He hugged his jacket around me and asked me if i was ready. I only nodded and he opened the door for me, helping my shaking frame out of the car, putting his arm around me. He helped me walk up the driveway to the house, i almost fell from my own panic of the situation. He had held me up until we got to the front door. 

He knocked and there were my three friends waiting there for me. My soaking wet body, my hair slicked down over my cheeks, my shaking frame, and Mike’s livid eyes staring back at them. 

He barked out orders at them and ushered me inside, and they scrambled around the house to grab towels, water, and a new set of clothes. Then he told them to make sure i was safe, then walked out, shutting the door behind him. 

The only thing i really got from it all, was how he had talked to me and how i could just see the way he had used me. I am a used little thing. I am a replacement. I am a pornstar. I am a child borne of vomit and tar. Mike may have let me sleep peacefully besides him and his gun, but i still sleep in the basement, on a cum stained mattress with four other men staring back at me.


	6. Bones and Enamel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't love me anymore.

A day later he did end up beating the shit out my father with a friend of his. They broke his ribs and beat him into his beauty of car, splattering his nose blood on the window and the rear view mirror glass burning into all of their fists, infected and cold. 

But when they beat his face in, in front of me, he barked orders at the boy besides him who was holding the bat. He hit the back of his knees and the man who knew me as his little star, fell to the ground and screamed out in pain for the punk clad boys who beat him in grabbed onto his wrists and kicked his ribs and gut. Blood will pour from his mouth just like it had poured between my legs but this time Mike will say:

“It’s okay, you’re supposed to bleed the first time.”

And he will point the bat at me and say “I was never here” then jump into his car and his friend will crawl into the backseat, taking the pipe with him. So that i would be the one left with my cripple of a father and he will moan in pain trying to hold his stomach together. 

I stared at the car speeding down the road, screeching at the sharp turn at the end of the street. Then i’d walk back inside and go to bed.


End file.
